Dark Moon
by Artemis Hunter
Summary: In Europe, another branch of Xavier's X-men is struggling to remain hidden from humanity. Could the appearances of a young girl with an unusual gift, an American bounty hunter with a past, and the powerful mutant Magneto force them into the open?
1. The Chase

X-Men: Dark Moon  
  
A FanFic by: Artemis Hunter  
  
Synopsis: In Europe, another branch of Xavier's X-men is struggling to remain hidden from enemy eyes. Could the appearances of a young girl with an unusual gift, an American bounty hunter with a past, and the powerful mutant Magneto cause a chain of events that could force them in the open?  
  
Here's the normal disclaimer: ***Any X-Men characters are the sole property of their creators at Marvel  
(aka Stan Lee, etc) ***  
Most of these are my original characters, though, so please don't  
plagiarize my work!  
  
Now on to the story!  
  
Chapter 1 The Hunt  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Racing through the damp, moonlit streets of Milan, Italy, she sped past alleyways and shops, glancing behind to make sure she had lost them. Gasping for breath, squinting against the rain, she urged herself forward, knowing that a second's rest could cost her the advantage.  
  
She stumbled and plowed through a gathering of people at a fountain near the center of the main square. Regaining her footing, she continued her escape into the depths of the city, heading towards a massive cathedral towering over the horizon...  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A compact, silver convertible turned into the final main roadway before screeching to a halt at the entrance into the historical Milan district. The driver, a bulky American man of Asian decent, craned his neck to search the brick-laden streets ahead. "Where is she?"  
  
A young British woman beside him covered her eyes from the light rain and adjusted the small personal headset she was wearing. Her deep brown eyes darted around, searching faces for the young girl.  
  
"I don't see her." She pressed the talk button on the side of her microphone. "Arthur, do you have a visual? We lost her..." The woman suddenly paused, her eyes flashing into a white opaque light.  
  
Within a small instant, hundreds of blurred images and emotions assaulted her mind; swarms of people in the streets, laughing, yelling, arguing; the surge of information was overtaking her senses -she forced her vision to become focused on a young woman hiding within the commotion, frightened, rushing through the crowds. She looked about sixteen years old, with straight crimson-red hair pulled back into a rushed bun. Poor girl, she thought for a moment, she has no idea what she's been thrown into... Suddenly her vision rushed forward to a large set of bronze doors, leading in to a towering Gothic Cathedral; she saw the girl enter, nervously glancing over her shoulder.  
  
Just as the heavy doors slammed shut, the church faded into white and then returned to the streets ahead of the car. The woman's vision slowly returned to the present, the normal hum of the city reaching her ears. When her eyes had returned to their normal brown hue, she hurriedly unfastened her seatbelt, reaching behind her to grasp the sword and scabbard lying in the back seat.  
  
"She's heading for the Duomo," she leaped over the car door. "I'm going on foot. Meet you there."  
  
"Wait, Gwen!" it was too late to stop her, for she was already sprinting towards the Gothic cathedral in the distance, sword in hand  
  
"David, what's going on?" a man's voice came over the driver's own headset.  
  
"Gwen's gone on ahead." He shifted into reverse and swung the car back around. "I'll try to head them off."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Gwen paused at the entrance to the Duomo's Piazza. The cathedral stood high at the end of the square, its spires reaching far into the sky, just barely masking the bright light of the moon.  
  
She searched the thinned crowds for a sign of the girl. Just as in her vision, the young woman pushed through the congregations of people, hurrying towards the cathedral.  
  
Sprinting across the expanse of the stone square, Gwen quickly fastened her sword to her side, covering it with her long coat. She cried out as loud as she could in a desperate attempt to call to the girl.  
  
"Moira!"  
  
The girl hesitated for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder, before hurrying into the cathedral doors. Gwen huffed before following her into the immense archway that led inside. Not wanting to disturb or arouse suspicion from the parishioners within, her sprint slowed to a shuffle. She warily headed under the towering bronze archway that led into the immense Gothic Cathedral.  
  
The grand stone archways along the ceiling instinctively drew her eye to the end of the room, which held the Duomo's rounded altar, ornate with marble and bronze religious sculptures. Glancing to the back of the altar, Gwen could see the girl heading up a flight of spiral stairs that led up to the higher reaches of the Cathedral.  
  
In one final dash, Gwen at last caught the girl. At the top, she Moira was leaning over the ledge of a spire against the cold gusts of wind, determined to still find an escape route. She finally spun herself around to face her pursuer.  
  
"What the hell do you want from me?" she demanded with a hushed Irish brogue, her hair blowing in her face from the chilled wind, the moonlight silhouetting her face.  
  
"Moira, I'm not here to hurt you; I'm here to help you."  
  
The girl circled Gwen cautiously, heading once again for the exit. "Of course you are. That's what your friend said too; just before he pulled a gun on me!"  
  
Gwen frowned for a moment. "Friend? What friend..." She was quickly interrupted as another vision invaded her mind.  
  
Moira screamed at the sudden flash from the woman's eyes, stumbling backwards and to the ground. The vision was close, giving Gwen barely enough time to react. She quickly removed a dagger from under her left pant leg, and in a flurry off movement, two bullets aimed from above ricocheted off the blade.  
  
She squinted into the night sky above, barely able to catch a glimpse of the shooter balancing between two small spires before he slid down to the descending buttresses.  
  
Shortly following the shots, Moira returned to her feet and fled the rooftop. Gwen called to her once more to stop the girl from running, before returning her gaze to her last view of the attacker. She activated the communicator on her headset.  
  
"Arthur, she's run off again." Her eye quickly flashed, revealing to her the girl's location. "You can cut her off at the next corner down. And be careful! She's been shaken up a bit."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Arthur Quinn stood at the corner of the street past the cathedral, leaning on an ebony walking cane. Beside him, Deirdre Morgan, a young Irishwoman, blew into her hands nervously, trying to take off the chill in the air.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Before Gwen could answer him, the young red-headed girl sprinted past them, barely tripping over a curb on her way across the street.  
  
"We see her," Quinn said through his headset, "How do you suggest we stop her?"  
  
"Let Deirdre talk with her."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I have another problem to tend to." He frowned and turned to Deirdre, who looked as worried as he felt. He nodded his head, motioning for the young blond woman to follow the runaway. He turned skyward, searching in vain for Gwen on the high cathedral roof.  
  
"Do you need backup?"  
  
"I'll be fine Arthur," Gwen reassured him, "Just protect Moira."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Gwen rushed up the ledges towards the sniper's last position, forcing herself to concentrate. Her senses were now partially immersed in the present and in her visions of the future. She could see every move the stranger would take ahead of her. Gripping the ledge above, she pulled herself up to the next level of spires on the roof.  
  
Silently tracking him, she got the distinct feeling he was completely aware of her moves as well, for she could sense him instinctively pausing on occasion to alter his path upward. Her pace slowed as she felt his presence nearby.  
  
The woman shuffled across a ledge, turning her head from the winds of the high altitude. She could sense the shooter pausing behind the corner as well, and she braced herself for the coming battle. The metallic scratch of her sword as she pulled it from its sheath was barely audible under the roaring of the winds. Step by step, she came closer and closer to the corner...  
  
She quickly swung her sword around to meet the attacker head on. Just as her blade met against the man's neck, she felt the cold metal of a rifle tip just below her chin. After a moment, the two combatants backed away from each other. They circled the wide platform of the cathedral, observing each other cautiously.  
  
Gwen could see the man clearly in the bright moonlight. He didn't seem at all as criminal as she'd expected; he was muscular and tan, obviously American. His presence, though, had a mysterious distinction. His movement gave off a manner of wild authority; something was almost animal about him. She could just make out through the misty rain his bright, golden, wolf-like eyes piercing into hers from under his brimmed fedora. He secured his rifle into a holster strapped to his back and quickly pulled out a large military knife from his boot.  
  
Gwen defiantly glared back as she tightened her grip on her sword hilt. She allowed him make the first move. He leaped towards her in silence, bringing the blade down towards her head. Sensing the attack a fraction of a second earlier, she easily ducked away from the blow.  
  
He quickly regained his footing and prepared for Gwen's counter swing. But instead, she kicked the man's legs from under him, tripping him up against the wall. His rifle slid out of its casing and across the floor, coming to rest just behind Gwen's boot. The tip of her blade came down under his neck and she slowly urged him upward. She dared to step a little closer to him, bringing the broad end of her blade to meet his neck. She noticed the pistol replacing the knife in his hand. Her glassy, illuminated eyes came to meet his.  
  
"Drop the gun."  
  
Silence was his reply, but she swore she heard a distinct growl from under his breath. She released her connection to her visionary state, and forcefully stared at him with her own, naturally brandy eyes.  
  
"Now." She tightened the force behind her blade. The man quickly grasped the sword blade, his fingerless leather glove protecting his hand, and drove her into the adjacent wall. Staggering, she lost her grip on the now slippery hilt, dropping it to the stone floor. He ran towards her, reaching down to grab his gun. Before she could stand up to intercept him, the man thrust the point to her chest, forcing her back down.  
  
Gwen watched his eyes carefully for a moment. She instinctively pulled back and winced, waiting for the man to pull the trigger. But a few moments passed and she wondered if he was simply savoring his victory. She opened her eyes, to find him staring at her, his eyes doubtful, as if he wondered what to do next. She considered him for a moment, and found herself engaged by his feral eyes. Their brief connection was broken as they heard footsteps from above.  
  
He instantly reacted with a look up to the ledge. A flash of light abruptly burst forth, temporarily blinding him.  
  
He howled in pain, and Gwen took this as her signal to strike. Thrusting the rifle into his chin, she released his grip on it and quickly struck him down with the handle. He crumpled to the ground.  
  
The light slowly subsided; Gwen looked up to face Deirdre, who closed her palm, extinguishing the blinding light emanating from it. Quinn came forward from behind the woman to reach for Gwen's hand.  
  
"Honestly, you make these things so difficult..."  
  
She retrieved her sword, re-sheathing it. Grabbing Quinn's hand, she slowly pulled herself up to the ledge. "Did you find her?"  
  
"With a little difficulty, yes. Deirdre was quite the diplomat with the lass."  
  
Gwen leaned against his shoulder for a moment, regaining her composure.  
  
"Are you alright?" Deirdre asked, gazing down at their unconscious assailant.  
  
"I'll be fine." She answered, rubbing her sore neck from the pain of the rifle tip. "Now let's get out of here before our friend here wakes up."  
  
The three started back down the spiral staircase on the rooftop, with Gwen taking one final glance behind. . .  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
To be continued, please R&R! 


	2. Full Moon

X-Men: Dark Moon  
  
A FanFic by: Artemis Hunter  
  
Continued...  
  
Chapter 2: Full Moon  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Several hours later, the group came to the small town of Como, south of Milan. Driving past the town, they finally arrived at a secluded lakeside mansion. It was a large, three story villa, surrounded by acres of gardens and beaches, nearly two miles from the Italian populace in each direction.  
  
A storm had picked up violently, and dark clouds covered the bright full moon still in the sky. They cautiously drove down the dim, lamp lit road which led to the mansion's parking garage. Gwen slowly led Moira into the villa's foyer.  
  
Arthur passed them, shaking his head. "Nearly two weeks of searching for this bit..."  
  
Deirdre rested her hand gingerly on Moira's shoulder from behind. "Don't mind Quinn. You've just caused us a little grief, that's all."  
  
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to..."  
  
"Don't fret over it, love" Gwen reassured her. "It's our job."  
  
"I still don't understand. What do you want with me?"  
  
"We heard you were in trouble, lass," Arthur chimed in, sitting down to recline on a sofa in the living room, "We protect runaway mutants like you."  
  
The girl obviously shivered at the term mutant. Gwen caught her uneasiness immediately. "This is a school, Moira; a school for young people like yourself with special gifts. The students who come here come to learn how to harness their abilities. We'd like you to consider enrolling with us."  
  
The girl looked a bit hesitant. "Why would you want me? I'm nothing special..."  
  
Gwen cut her off. "Moira, you have a remarkable talent, a talent that we believe can be used to do great things. Don't dismiss your abilities; you'll be surprised at what you can accomplish."  
  
"But you certainly don't have to make a decision right now!" Deirdre interrupted. "In the mean time," she began leading her up the grand staircase, "I'll show you to a room you can stay in. I'm sure some of the students wouldn't mind sharing for a few days."  
  
Moira was silent for moment. "What happens if I decide to stay here?"  
  
"Well, if you stay, you'll have access to any help we can give you." Gwen answered, "You'll be able to fine-tune your abilities. What you do after that is up to you."  
  
"I'll have to think about it."  
  
The woman smiled. "Of course. Take your time, love."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
As the two headed upstairs, a young man sped down. He lifted his eyebrows, smiling broadly at Deirdre. The woman simply rolled her eyes and continued to walk up towards the dormitories. "Well hello to you too."  
  
Arthur smiled patronizingly. "Well, Jacob, so nice of you to join us. I trust your evening went well?"  
  
"Very funny, Quinn. I wish you fellas wouldn't leave me on babysitting duty all the time; it's embarrassing."  
  
David stepped into the room, hearing the overzealous Australian's comment.  
  
"Well we wouldn't want you to get too excited and short my car out, now would we, Shock?"  
  
"More jibes at my expense! You hear all this, Gwen?"  
  
"Yes, Jacob." Gwen stared out the window over the dark, calm lake. "But someone has to stay here to keep an eye on things. We couldn't very well have us all gallivanting around the city."  
  
"So your trip went well then?"  
  
"In most respects."  
  
Jacob's icy blue eyes flashed at her comment. "What happened?"  
  
"Oh, she ran into some trouble at one of the cathedrals." Arthur remarked, smirking. "Lucky we got there in time before she got herself shot."  
  
Gwen whipped around to face him, offended. "I was handling things just fine, thank you."  
  
Arthur laughed, "Sure you were..."  
  
Feeling the tensions grow, Jacob quickly changed the subject. "Speaking o' Moira, what are the little sheila's powers?"  
  
Gwen, still agitated, forced herself to answer him. "She's empathic; she can read other people's emotions. She may even be able to control them, I'm not sure. We don't know the full extent of her powers yet."  
  
"You may not..." A voice replied from behind. The group's gaze darted up to the man leaning against the entrance, pointing two pistols in their direction.  
  
Gwen gritted her teeth. "You again! What are you doing here?"  
  
"I'm here for the girl." He answered matter-of-factly. He headed towards the staircase, but Gwen moved to block him.  
  
"She's under our protection now; you're not going near her!"  
  
"Well, you see, I can't promise that..." He raised his pistol to her face. She didn't flinch, and stared right back at him. Quinn headed towards them, but the American redirected the second pistol towards him.  
  
"Why are you so interested in her anyway?" Gwen asked.  
  
"I've been paid to be interested."  
  
"Paid? So you're a bounty hunter then..."  
  
"Good guess."  
  
"And who are you?" Arthur interrupted. He noticed Jacob in the corner of his eye inching closer to the man.  
  
"Doesn't matter."  
  
"It does to us," Gwen insisted.  
  
The man smirked at her earnestness. "The name's DiMarco." His eyes flashed to Jacob, creeping closer. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."  
  
Before he could turn back around, Gwen punched him hard in the jaw. Jacob released a bolt of electricity out of his fingertips, stunning the man for a moment. As he fell to the ground, David sped with super human quickness grasping him around the neck and lifting him into the air.  
  
"Now, Mr. DiMarco," Gwen began calmly, "Who are you working for?"  
  
He reached for David's hand, trying to allow some more air flow. "I don't know; I don't ask."  
  
Gwen was unconvinced. "Jacob." The man rolled his sleeves up further, blue electricity surging around his arm. David tightened his grip. "Now I'm going to ask again; who hired you?"  
  
"A man named...Xavier," He gasped. They all froze for a moment. Gwen stepped closer to him.  
  
"Charles Xavier?"  
  
"Yeah, that's the guy." She glared in suspicion. The man began to slip into unconsciousness.  
  
"David, put him down." With a moment's hesitation, the large man released his hold and the bounty hunter crumpled to the ground, coughing furiously.  
  
Gwen faced Arthur, her eyes fierce. "He's not to leave this room, understand?"  
  
The man nodded as Gwen quickly stormed out the room.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Minutes later Gwen was pacing her office, deep in a heated phone discussion with Charles Xavier, the school founder and benefactor.  
  
"But Professor, why didn't you just leave the girl to us? We didn't have any problems finding her on our own."  
  
"I have no doubt of that, Gwendolyn," The older man responded over the phone. "But I believe that that Magneto may also be interested in Moira's talents."  
  
The woman grew uneasy at the name. "Magneto? What would he want with her?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but my sources indicate that Eric has been in on her trail for the last few weeks now. He was last seen on the borders of Northern Italy with several of his associates; that's a little too close to you for comfort. If he were to be looking for Moira, I believe that DiMarco could be a great asset in ensuring her safety."  
  
"I don't think so, Professor. He's a bounty hunter; he hunts us for sport! What possible use could we have for a man like him?"  
  
"He is merely a tracker, and I highly doubt he would kill his own kind for sport."  
  
"DiMarco is a mutant?" That would explain a lot, she thought. She thought on it for a moment before continued. "What kind of powers does he have that would make him helpful?"  
  
"I'm a little short on the details; he likes to keep to himself about it."  
  
His lack of response shortened her patience. "I'm sorry, Professor; I cannot harbor a criminal in our school!"  
  
"I'm not saying that you shouldn't be careful around him, Gwendolyn, I am merely suggesting that you think twice before you refuse his help."  
  
The phone clicked, she grumbled under her breath and turned to leave.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
After finally collecting herself, Gwen stepped out of her office and back into the living room. She glanced up the stairwell and noticed the small congregation of students crouching trying to catch a glimpse of the stranger.  
  
She turned back to DiMarco and his captors. Deirdre had joined the group and was leaning uneasily against the wall adjacent to the bounty hunter, eyeing him suspiciously. The group raised their heads when they heard the office door close.  
  
David was looming over DiMarco, who was now forced into a chair. Gwen stared for a moment in silence, reevaluating her decision. "Set Mr. DiMarco up in one of the guest rooms. He'll be staying the night."  
  
Arthur stood in protest. "Gwen, what are you doing!?"  
  
"I'm not going to let him loose in this storm, Arthur."  
  
"But you can't keep him here!"  
  
"It's not your decision," she reprimanded. She knelt in front of the man, "But you will be gone first thing in the morning, understand?"  
  
"No problem." He was roughly pulled to his feet by David. "Why are you doing this?"  
  
"Don't mistake this for hospitality, Mr. DiMarco. I simply find it unwise to let you roam around free."  
  
"Then I'm a prisoner here?" He stood to meet her eyes. David roughly pushed him towards the stairs. The students at the top sprinted towards their rooms in a rush.  
  
"For the night...yes."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Later that night, Gwen retired to her room on the second floor. Exhausted and shaken, she quickly stripped off her leather uniform, showered, and changed into a tank top and pajamas.  
  
Without pulling back the sheets, she lay down on her bed, silently listening to the storm raging outside. Her whole body ached; she could still feel the pressure on her chest from DiMarco's rifle.  
  
She had assigned Jacob, the eternal night owl, to keep watch on the man, promising he could "shock him a little" if the bounty hunter caused any problems. It wasn't much consolation for another demeaning task, but it was enough. Staring at the ceiling, she contemplated whether or not she had made the right choice in allowing the man to stay.  
  
She took a deep breath, deciding it was for the best. Just remember, he'll be gone in the morning. This thought didn't seem to ease her mind. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep...  
  
Suddenly, a vision came to her, breaking the silence in her mind. Her vision led her down the hall and further up the staircase, to the door of one of the third story rooms. Her vision went further, entering the dark room, she could see a creature, growling and scratching, leaping towards her. It seized her by the shoulders, shaking her, its golden eyes glowing in vicious delight. The shaking continued as she awoke from the vision. Deirdre was standing beside the bed, attempting to stir her.  
  
"Gwen, wake up!"  
  
She woke with a start. "Deirdre? What's going on?"  
  
"Something's happening upstairs. It's coming from that DiMarco's room."  
  
As if on cue, a shrill inhuman howl resounded through the mansion. Gwen jumped to her feet and reached for her robe, pulling it around her.  
  
"What in hell?"  
  
"This way!" Deirdre tossed Gwen her dagger from off the nightstand, and the two headed upstairs.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
They sprinted up the staircase to the origin of the noise. When they arrived, Jacob, David, and Arthur, as well as a large gathering of students, had assembled at the door from Gwen's vision.  
  
Moira stood at David's side, eyeing the door nervously. "It feels so...angry."  
  
Gwen patted her on the shoulder. "It's alright." She walked over to Quinn, who leaned warily against the wall, his ear to the door.  
  
"What is it, Arthur?" The man lifted his head, deep in concentration.  
  
"I'm not sure," he whispered. "It started a few minutes ago: scratching, howling, and the like."  
  
"I'm going in..."  
  
Arthur stood in front to stop her. "Not by yourself you're not!" abruptly thunder boomed outside as a lightning bolt flashed, and the mansions lights flickered out. Some of the students screamed before the pale emergency lights came on.  
  
She sighed. "Fine; David and I will go in." She threw her robe off and pulled out the dagger at her side. She turned to the other students, squinting in the darkness. "As for the rest of you, go back to bed!"  
  
Deirdre rounded the students up and urged them back into their rooms. Moira stayed one moment longer before following. "Be careful."  
  
Gwen smiled. "Don't worry, we will." She glanced at David and then to the door. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Sure, why not?"  
  
Gwen slowly opened the door, and David, grabbing a flashlight from the nightstand in the hall, followed her into the dark room.  
  
Besides the storm continuing to rage outside, the room was silent. The two glanced around, searching for the source of the noise. As she stepped in closer, Gwen heard something shatter under David's boot. She knelt down, finding a broken hypodermic needle in a puddle of liquid. She carefully lifted the dry end of the syringe as David brought his flashlight down to read the label; it was a heavy sedative tranquilizer.  
  
Gwen looked up, searching for the bounty hunter. "DiMarco?" A low rumbling filled the room, echoing, masking its source.  
  
David suddenly swung around. "Watch out!"  
  
Gwen had sensed the presence too and ducked out of the way. David leapt behind her to intercept the attacker. He swung his thick arm around and plowed his fist into DiMarco, driving him into the wall. Gwen spun around to face the bounty hunter, now crouched towards the ground, growling.  
  
Several tense moments passed as he circled the two intruders, sniffing the air in their direction. This was obviously not the man she'd seen hours earlier; it was now a predator, a prowling animal. Its golden eyes blazed with hunger; Gwen knew it was hunting her. She tightly grasped her dagger and recalled her vision. As if on cue, the beast leaped into the air, reaching for her throat.  
  
Just before reaching her, it howled, thrown back by a sudden bolt of lightning. Jacob and Arthur dashed inside. DiMarco vainly tried to lift himself back onto his feet, but soon collapsed once again to the floor. Arthur breathed heavily, eyeing the entire room before resting his gaze on the unconscious attacker.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I think we've just discovered his power," David remarked coolly, flipping the man over gently with his boot. Jacob ambled over and checked him for life signs.  
  
"He's out cold."  
  
Arthur turned to Gwen. "What do you suggest we do?"  
  
Gwen cautiously watched the man lying on the floor, moonlight now shining down on him through the window. "Chain him up."  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------- To be continued... 


	3. Opposing Views

X-Men: Dark Moon  
  
A FanFic by: Artemis Hunter  
  
Continued... Chapter 3: Opposing Views  
  
When a ~ appears with someone speaking, it means the dialogue is in italics (they're thoughts or another language)...  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
John DiMarco woke the next morning with a painful pounding in his head. He slowly opened his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight coming through the window. Rolling off his stomach, he realized his hands were cuffed behind his back, and groaned.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. DiMarco. I hope you slept well."  
  
John forced himself to sit up and face the British woman from the night before, who was reclining in a chair adjacent to the bed, casually flipping through files piled on her lap. He struggled against his restraints as he watched her for a moment, noticing her attempt to ignore him.  
  
~This is starting to become more trouble than it's worth, ~ he thought, ~Why didn't you just pull the trigger back there on the roof? ~  
  
"What's this?" He moved his bound hands so she could see them.  
  
"You gave us quite a scare last night." She commented, seeming to not hear the question.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
She looked at him, stunned. "You don't remember?"  
  
He shook his head. The woman stood up, placed the files on the chair, and brought a trash bin from the corner of the room over to the side of the bed. John craned his neck to glance inside at the shattered vials within. His stomach sank as she answered him.  
  
"Those drugs you were taking seem to have been...less than adequate."  
  
He cursed under his breath, and slowly lifted his head. "Was anybody hurt?"  
  
"We'll live." She placed the garbage can back in the corner and pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. "Now, if you feel you are entirely yourself again..."  
  
Staring at the floor, he quietly nodded. She came forward, kneeled on the bed, and quickly unlocked the handcuffs. He then found his voice.  
  
"Why am I still here?"  
  
The woman put the handcuffs on the dresser beside them and sat on the edge of the mattress.  
  
"You found your way into the school easy enough before: I assumed you could find another way in undetected again. I thought this might be safer for all of us."  
  
"Yeah, and look where that idea got us," he snapped. The woman stiffened from his angry remark.  
  
"As I've said, no one was hurt, Mr. DiMarco, but I would be more than happy to show you the way out ~without~ the return of your belongings."  
  
"I guess I've overstayed my welcome." He conceded, rubbing his sore wrists.  
  
"On the contrary," she interrupted, "Your situation withstanding, I've found it necessary to ask you to stay for a while longer."  
  
He raised his head, surprised. "Excuse me?"  
  
"The fact is, I'd like to help you." She offered her hand to him. "Gwendolyn Holmes."  
  
He stared warily at her for a moment before returning the handshake. "John."  
  
"I'd like to help you, John." She loosened her grip, but it took him a little longer to let go. "If you'll allow me to, of course."  
  
"I don't think that's possible..." He turned to sit on the other side of the bed and pulled on his shirt, which had been lying on the floor.  
  
Gwen laughed at his stubbornness. "I run a school for mutant teenagers." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think I can handle you."  
  
"By yourself?"  
  
She stood up from the bed and slowly headed out of the room. "Truth be told, the others don't quite share my view of all this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach this morning..."  
  
John studied her as she left. "So you're the only person here who trusts me?"  
  
Gwendolyn stopped halfway to the door raising an eyebrow and casting him a wry smile. "Who ever said I trusted you?"  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
She entered her office some minutes later. Arthur stood in front of her desk, waiting impatiently.  
  
"Why didn't the Professor warn us?" He paced the floor in front of her. "One would think being the most powerful telepath in the world, that he would know all of DiMarco's little secrets."  
  
Gwen walked over to her desk, placing her files on the desktop. "Well, how would you have acted if you'd known what he could do?"  
  
"You're defending him?" Arthur was taken aback. "Gwen, he nearly killed you!"  
  
"I think you're exaggerating a little."  
  
"The man is dangerous; you can't allow him around the students."  
  
Clocks began ringing to sound that it was 8:00 in the morning; the mutant students' classes would begin soon.  
  
"You don't have the authority to make that judgment. I am convinced now that John was brought here for a reason and not just to protect Moira."  
  
"John?" he huffed.  
  
Their conversation was interrupted as four students hustled into the room. Gwen stared warily at them. She began to whisper in Arabic to prevent overhearing.  
  
"Kefaya! ~That's enough! Please try to understand; he needs our help, not our ridicule.~"  
  
Arthur responded with no difficulty. "~Not when he places the students, and us, in danger for our lives!~"  
  
"~Don't we place ourselves in that situation every day?~"  
  
He glared hard at her. Uneasy silence continued for a while.  
  
"~Fine. It's your decision, no matter how misguided.~"  
  
As more students entered the office, Gwen turned to her desk. "I believe you have a class to tend to."  
  
Quinn clenched his fists, and stormed out of the room.  
  
Gwen sighed and returned to her desk, anxiously re-sorting the papers. She quietly turned to the students, who now filled the room.  
  
"Good morning, class. Please take your seats..."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Later that morning, John swung the door open, straightening his shirt collar. He'd sensed he had a guard long before he'd stepped out of the room, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the young Australian leaning in a chair against the wall. He stopped and slightly smiled, wondering why Gwendolyn had left a child to keep watch over him.  
  
"I wasn't told to stop ya, mate." The young man leaned the chair upright. Just to let ya know we'll be watchin. So no funny business; got it?"  
  
"Got it..." John responded, unconvinced by the young man's ultimatum. He felt his stomach suddenly growling. Then he realized he hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon.  
  
"There any way to get some food around here?"  
  
"Sure, mate: kitchen's down the stairs on the left."  
  
"Thanks," he turned to go. "And I'm not your mate, boy."  
  
The would-be guard raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright, no need t' get snippy bout it."  
  
John slowly ventured down the staircase. Glancing down into the hall below, he caught the gaze of three young students relaxing on the sofas at the far end of the room.  
  
In unison, the three quickly stood up from their seats and hustled to an adjacent door, suddenly eager to return to class.  
  
He grimaced for a moment, recalling what he had been told about the previous night, but then heard raised voices coming from the office at the foot of the stairs. His eyes narrowed, and he decided to investigate.  
  
The door was cracked open, so as he came closer, he could discern that one voice belonged to Gwendolyn...  
  
"Humanism is a philosophy that emphasizes humanity's ability to reach their full potential as ethical and moral people. It's fairly popular belief, but a bit too ideal."  
  
John peeked into the crack in the door and saw a large gathering of students seated in various upholstered chairs surrounding Gwendolyn's desk. The young woman was leaning against it, deep into her lecture.  
  
"So how do you learn to define morality? How do you know right from wrong? Where do you learn it from?"  
  
She looked around, waiting for a volunteer. A young, Asian girl raised her hand. Gwendolyn pointed to her.  
  
"From our parents," the girl piped up from the back of the room.  
  
"Alright, Becka, but where do they learn?"  
  
"From their parents," a tall German boy answered aloud. John recognized the young red-haired girl sitting a few rows back. The girl raised her hand cautiously.  
  
"Yes, Moira?"  
  
"Well, doesn't society shape what we believe?"  
  
The woman smiled, nodding.  
  
"Very good point, Moira. But then we must begin to consider who started society's view? Where did it all begin?"  
  
Gwendolyn shrewdly observed the student's faces: this was obviously getting too in depth.  
  
"But we're getting off topic. So as I was saying, the humanist belief is that all humanity had the capacity to be good."  
  
"That idea is flawed, Ms. Holmes."  
  
Students gave murmurs of disapproval and flashed stern glances at the boy who had cut in, warning him to not contradict her. But Gwendolyn raised her hands in protest.  
  
"Now now, we're not here to judge: after all, this class is founded on individual ideas and opinions. Marcus, you have the floor."  
  
The boy seemed surprised that he was allowed to continue. It took him a moment to come up with what to say.  
  
"Well, these philosophers spew all about humanity being honest and that everyone has the ability to be good...when we ALL know from personal experience that that's not true."  
  
Gwendolyn's face became grim as she shifted uneasily on the desktop.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure no one here can say that they have never received a strange look from someone because of what we are."  
  
"Then what are we supposed to do? Hide from humans? Never reveal ourselves?"  
  
All eyes were now on Gwendolyn, awaiting her response. She stood up, facing the entire class.  
  
"I'm not here to give you with all the answers to life. Even if I was, I couldn't provide them."  
  
John watched silently from the doorway as she glanced at the clock above the door. He ducked out of the way. He wasn't sure if he had been seen, but Gwendolyn continued.  
  
"This class is designed to provide you with different points of view in order for you to come up with your own conclusions about humanity. I hope, of course, that you all can find it inside yourselves to give them the benefit of the doubt to accept us."  
  
"Why should we?" Marcus remarked indignantly. Gwendolyn rested her hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I know how you feel. But we mustn't hate those humans who refuse to accept us; if we do, we're no better than them."  
  
Suddenly, another clock sounded that it was noon. The tension was broken as the student packed their books.  
  
"I'll see you all for training at two o'clock sharp." She finally let out a quiet sigh, heading back to her desk.  
  
John quickly shifted to the side to avoid the charge of students rushing through the door. As the crowd thinned, he peeked into the door at Gwendolyn, who was resting in her desk chair.  
  
"You may come in, John."  
  
He walked in, a little hesitant. Glancing around the room, he found her office of be adorned with an array of Egyptian artifacts; stone hangings of hieroglyphics lined the walls, busts of ancient pharaohs placed on pedestals were placed on either end of the doorway, and an image of a goddess painted onto a sheet of papyrus paper was framed beside her desk.  
  
He looked back to Gwendolyn, who was resting against her hands, slumped over the pile of papers.  
  
"You look tired," he remarked, running his hands along the desk.  
  
She looked up at him, smiling weakly. "Hmm? Oh...yes; a bit, I suppose. It's been a very long week." She straightened up. "So what can I do for you?"  
  
"Oh nothing, I was on my way to get something to eat and I heard your class. Sounded interesting."  
  
"You don't have to patronize me, John. I know that philosophy's not one of the most exciting subjects."  
  
"The kids seemed to be getting into it."  
  
"Well that was a topic that is most relevant to our work here: it requires a lot of attention."  
  
There was a long pause between them. John allowed his attention to wander around the room. His eyes fell onto the image resting on her desk.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"She's Shait, the Egyptian goddess of fate and destiny."  
  
"Shyeet?" he tried his best to pronounce it, but it didn't come as close as Gwendolyn's near native accent saying the name.  
  
"It was a gift from a friend of my family. I was raised in Egypt for much of my life, and some followers of the old religions who worked for my father felt that my powers made me a Shait reincarnate."  
  
He saw her eyes dim as she mentioned her father. "Is he..."  
  
"Both he and my mother passed many years ago."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"No need. I don't think I would have even considered attending Xavier's school in America had I not been on my own. Life's not without its lucky surprises, I suppose."  
  
A long pause once again followed. John continued hesitantly.  
  
"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something."  
  
Gwen smiled knowingly and stood up from her seat. "About our arrangement?"  
  
"Yeah. I don't understand exactly how you expect to help me."  
  
"We can discuss it if you like."  
  
"Right now?"  
  
Her smile broadened. "Of course, if you wish. But I'd prefer to get something to eat first. I'm starving too."  
  
John returned with a grin, moving to the side to let her through. "After you."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
To be continued... 


	4. Complications

X-Men: Dark Moon  
  
A FanFic by: Artemis Hunter  
  
Continued... Complications  
  
When a appears with someone speaking, it means the dialogue is in italics.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Moira followed Becka out of the classroom and out into the villa's main hall. A tall boy rushed past in a blond blur, bumping into Moira as he jogged outdoors.  
  
"Finally!" The boy yelled. "I thought I was gonna kill myself in there!"  
  
"Oh, shut up, Marcus!" Becka demanded back at him. "I guess guys are all the same, mutant or not, huh?"  
  
The new girl smiled accordingly. She could sense that Becka had a slight crush on the boy who had past them, in spite of her barrage on him.  
  
She took a deep breath and risked extending her empathy further into the room. Mostly she felt glimpses of joy and relief from the students rushing around them. Normal teenage hormones were swirled into the mix as Moira noticed two younger boys teasing a group of girls.  
  
A different mood suddenly entered her mind. She turned to the source of the emotion- the staircase heading upstairs. She sensed sadness, loneliness; she began walking towards the stairs until Becka pulled her in the opposite direction.  
  
"You're gonna really like it here, Moira, I just know it. And since we're roomies now, I guess I'm your official tour guide. Come on, I'll introduce you to some of the guys."  
  
Becka hustled her down the marble staircase leading to the backyards. Pausing halfway down, Moira gazed out at the field. The villa grounds sprawled out for several miles in either direction along the coast of Lake Como. It was the middle of the afternoon; the sun beat down as a crowd of students relaxed on the lawn before the beach. The young Asian girl grabbed Moira's wrist and smiled warmly, dragging her further down to the bottom of the stairs.  
  
"Come on, now, don't be shy."  
  
Moira followed Becka appreciatively, but her mind was still focused on the grim presence she had detected earlier. She glanced quickly at the highest floor of the villa, where a dark figure stood at the lone window above. She released Becka's grip on her hand.  
  
"Actually, I'm a little beat, Becka. I think I'm going to just head up to the room for a bit; you know, get some rest before class starts again."  
  
Her self-appointed tour guide smiled warmly. "Alright, Moira. I guess another time then?"  
  
Moira headed cautiously toward the doorway inside. "Definitely."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Gwendolyn led John out onto the balcony after they had gotten some food in the villa's kitchen. She hugged her arms, basking in the warm sunlight, and smiled as she watched students rough-housing on the lawn. John leaned against the rail, watching her face intently.  
  
"What is it?" She asked, noticing him from the corner of her eye. He was startled for a moment, considering what to respond with.  
  
"So what's your plan exactly; you going to cure me or something?" She knew that wasn't the question he wanted to ask her.  
  
She moved to the railing beside him. "I'm sorry John, but it doesn't work that way. I know that...thing...may not be your more attractive face," Gwen paused for a moment, reevaluating what she'd just said.  
  
John grinned appreciatively, breaking their gaze. She quickly shook off the initial embarrassment and continued.  
  
"But it's still part of who you are. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."  
  
They stood in silence for a moment, and Gwen found herself studying John's face. In the clear light of day, she saw how young he really was. He was lean and tan, the brilliant sunlight shone through his dress shirt, making it somewhat transparent. His wild, golden eyes were bright and attentive as he watched the students wander the grounds. Heading away from his eyes, she noticed he bore a small tattoo; a ring of sharp triangles leading down from his brow to his upper cheek. His hat had hidden his face so much the previous night; she hadn't noticed his strong features before now.  
  
She quickly stopped herself. What was she thinking? The man had tried to kill her, twice in fact, and she was grading him. She scorned herself, attempting to push him out of her mind. And yet, a thought crept back to her; he had attempted to kill her, but never actually succeeded; he had always stopped himself. She recalled night on the cathedral, the connection there had almost been.  
  
She saw his head suddenly perk up, is ear slightly twitching, leaning towards the side of the villa. She smirked for a moment at John's almost canine instincts, yet his face remained stern.  
  
"Are you expecting company?" he commented, half-consciously staring into space.  
  
"Not that I'm aware of. What's wrong?"  
  
"I hear a car." They made eye contact for a moment as Gwen thought on it. She sprinted back inside toward the front door with John in tow, and thrust it open. Squinting in the sunlight, they both saw a small black car entering the front gate of the grounds about a mile out. John's keen eyes made out a small, gold-fringed flag waving on the antennae behind the car.  
  
"Government employee." He didn't seem to take any interest in the fact. Gwen, on the other hand, began to tense up, gritting her teeth.  
  
"Shit." Gwen rushed back inside, pacing the main hall, yelling at the top of her lungs. "David, Arthur, he's here! Decato's here!"  
  
In a burst of speed, the two men slid into the room from the back lawn, their faces wrought with concern. David peeked out to the front driveway. "What? He's not due till next week!"  
  
Arthur gave a warning glare toward John. "He must've caught wind of our little outing to the city."  
  
John stood in the doorway, still eyeing the car outside, but he could easily sense the tension emanating from the hall. He caught the scorn in Arthur's comment, but forced himself to ignore it. "I give this guy about three minutes before he gets here."  
  
Gwen nodded to the students lounging out on the lawn. "David, get the kids to settle down for a while. No powers until we give the ok."  
  
The man nodded and ran outside to get the students attention. Arthur remained at her side, still glaring at John. "What about him? Decato will have questions."  
  
She ignored Quinn's obvious objection and headed out the door towards the driveway. "He'll be with me." She placed her hand on his arm, urging him outside. "John?"  
  
"Right." He complied eagerly, wondering why this Decato man had caused such a stir.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The black car slowly pulled up to the parking a few yards from the villa. The driver's door opened and a man in a neatly pressed black suit stepped out: Vincenzo Decato, school board inspector, a thin-set, older Italian man with a spiteful disposition. His lifted his eyes nonchalantly to the roof of the villa, hiding his eyes from the sun as if he were allergic to the light.  
  
John kept close to Gwen as she sauntered over to the car, appearing as casual as possible to not merit suspicion.  
  
"Inspector Decato, we were not expecting you today." She extended her hand to the man. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"  
  
The wiry man shook her hand stiffly with a suspicious eye landing on John.  
  
"Buongiorno, Signora Holmes. In light of recent events, I've decided to advance the date of my inspections." The man answered in obnoxiously perfect English.  
  
Gwen put on a convincing look of confusion. "Recent events? I'm afraid I don't understand."  
  
His eyes narrowed, unimpressed. "I suppose you haven't heard; there was a slight disturbance in Milan last evening. A group of young people gallivanting around the city. Witnesses recognized a silver convertible with a large-muscled man driving." He eyed David's car parked in the open garage.  
  
"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"  
  
Gwen smiled innocently, but John could see she wanted to punch him in the mouth. "I'm afraid not, Inspector. We haven't had an outing to Milan for months. We're all starting to get a bit of cabin fever, in fact."  
  
"Really," His flat voice showed once again that he was unconvinced by Gwendolyn's excuses. He turned suddenly toward John. "And who is this?"  
  
John reached his hand out, smiling quite charmingly, Gwendolyn noticed. "John DiMarco. An old schoolmate of Gwen's. I'm here on a visit for the week."  
  
"American?" the older man commented sharply. "Signora Holmes, you really do have friends everywhere."  
  
She smiled inwardly at his eagerness to help. "Yes, well, I was just giving John a proper tour of the house; I suppose you would like to join us? Two birds with one stone as it were."  
  
Decato ran his hand through his graying, slicked back hair, smiling shrewdly. "Very well, lead the way, Signora."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Moira stepped carefully up toward the third floor of the villa. As far as she could tell, there weren't any dormitories on the level. The lights on either side of the winding staircase remained unlit; the only light entering came from a handful of open rooms which were no more than storage rooms. She inched down the hall, following her senses to the end room. The door seemed to have been newly painted, but Moira could see scratch marks deep in the wood.  
  
She ran her hand along the markings, her curiosity growing even stronger. Whoever she had sensed, he or she was behind that door.  
  
"Hello?" She whispered into the door. She felt that the melancholy emanating from the room was interrupted by surprise. She heard shuffling from inside as the room's resident stumble to the door.  
  
"Who...who is it?" A young Scottish man's voice answered. The door creaked open to reveal a shadowed figure. Moira craned her neck to catch a better glimpse of the man, smiling kindly.  
  
"My name's Moira, I..."  
  
"The new student? Yes, Gwendolyn told me about you."  
  
"Really? Well I..."  
  
"What are you doing up here?" he interrupted.  
  
"Taking a personal tour, I guess," She answered nervously. "I just wanted to see if there was anything of interest up here."  
  
The man chuckled quietly. "Well I'm afraid you won't find much of interest here, Moira."  
  
She smiled and laughed with him. "Well I don't know about that." She looked into his eyes, trying to get a reading from the man. "What's your name?"  
  
A pause followed. He didn't seem very accustomed to visitors. "Michael. Michael Devlin."  
  
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Michael..."  
  
Footsteps sounded through the hall as Gwendolyn's voice chimed in uncharacteristically loud, like a warning. "Well if you notice, Inspector Decato, nothing much has changed up here."  
  
Moira gasped, glancing around for a place to hide. The door behind her creaked open a little further and a strong hand tugged her by the arm into the darkened room. Michael pulled her into a small closet behind the door, placing his hand softly over her mouth.  
  
She tried to pull away, startled from being dragged into the darkness, but calmed down when a shuffling noise came from outside. Shadows appeared under the door as the doorknob turned uneasily. Moira peaked through a crack in the closet door and saw an old man, followed by Gwen and DiMarco, enter the room. Moira glanced up at Michael and nodded, understanding the need for silence. The young man responded by dropping his hand to her shoulder.  
  
The old man silently examined the room. "Well Signora Holmes, one can never be too careful."  
  
"Careful of what exactly, Inspector? This is just an art studio."  
  
At Gwen's comment, Moira glanced around the shadowed room and noticed that the walls were covered in sketches and canvases. She couldn't make out the images on them through the darkness, so she leaned forward a bit to get a closer look. Michael hurriedly pulled her back.  
  
"Not yet." He whispered into her ear, placing his hand back over her mouth.  
  
The inspector glanced at the closet in reaction to the noise, stepping closer. Moira instinctively drew back into Michael's arms, holding her breath. His grip on her shoulders tightened reassuringly.  
  
"I'm afraid classes will be resuming soon, Mr. Decato."  
  
The man's attention was diverted for just long enough to move him away from their hiding place. Both Michael and Moira silently sighed in relief.  
  
"I'm sorry for detaining you from your work, Signora Holmes."  
  
John leaned the door open for both of them as they returned to the hallway. Moira listened intently as the trio's footsteps became fainter, trailing down the staircase. Michael slowly opened the door, letting Moira out into the large room.  
  
She turned around to face the man. He was raggedly clothed; his dark jeans and green hooded sweatshirt were covered by a knee length wool coat. He pulled a wool cap over his dark shaggy hair. She smiled at him, noticing his uncomfortable slouch.  
  
"Thank you, for hiding me back there."  
  
Michael looked up with intense, dark eyes. "I figured Gwen wouldn't want Decato to see you." He smiled gently. "Especially since you're probably the reason he's here."  
  
She nodded, crossing her arms in the draft of the single window beside her. "I suppose I better stay here till he leaves, then."  
  
"Uh...well...I suppose...I mean you don't have to..."  
  
Moira ignored his nervous stumbling and turned to the silhouetted artwork hanging on the walls. "May I?" She pointed to the thick curtain covering the window.  
  
Michael nodded nervously, backing into the shadowy corner away from the light. Noticing and sensing his apprehension, Moira only pulled the curtain open enough to see the paintings on one wall. "Wow. Michael, these are amazing."  
  
The wall was an eclectic collection of pencil sketches, charcoal drawings, and paintings. Her eyes and hand moved around the wall randomly to different pieces: landscapes of the villa grounds in all the seasons, portraits of students and teachers, images of the moonlit Lake Como.  
  
"Are these all yours?"  
  
"Yes." She sensed his surprise at her praise of his work. "Do you really like them?"  
  
She nodded energetically. "They're wonderful. I especially like this one." She pointed to a small sketch of a grotto surrounding a stone fountain.  
  
"That's one of my favorites too." Michael's voice suddenly became lively as he absent mindedly stepped into the light towards the wall.  
  
Moira studied him as she finally got her first good look at the young man. The first thing she could notice in the shadow was his height; the man had to have been at least six and a half feet tall. As soon as he reached the light of the window, however, his mutation became apparent; she saw his face and hands, the only skin visible from under his thick clothing, were a dark blue-gray. The strands of hair peaking out from under his cap were a dark black with a noticeably blue tint.  
  
She was initially shocked at his appearance. But then she recalled his kind demeanor toward her ever since they met. His mutation was obvious, but he was not hideous in any respect; Moira decided he was in fact quite handsome. His face was kind and youthful, with brightness in his eyes. She smirked just as Michael realized that he had stepped into the open. He began backing away in shock, until he saw her face, smiling at him, and his surprise deepened.  
  
"You're not... afraid of me?"  
  
She laughed quietly. "Why would I be afraid?"  
  
"Everyone else is. That's why I stay up here."  
  
She walked up to him, lifting his hand into hers, examining it. "Well, I guess I'm not everyone else, then." Michael hesitantly smiled at her for a moment, and then continued studying the artwork on the walls.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
John followed close behind Gwen and Decato as they headed back down to the inspector's car.  
  
"I'm very sorry that we couldn't help you about that incident, inspector."  
  
Decato's eyes narrowed. "Yes, well, it's alright, Signora. I hope it is alright if I return with any further questions I have?"  
  
"Of course. You're always welcome."  
  
He eyed her cautiously, nodding. "Good. I'll be taking my leave then." He glanced at John, disdain hidden behind his fake smile. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. DiMarco."  
  
John nodded, flashing his charming smile again. "Ditto."  
  
With that, Decato opened the door to his car and drove off, the wheels of the car kicking up dust on the path.  
  
John watched Gwen for a few moments, seeing the anger in her face at the confrontation that had just occurred. She huffed as she turned away from the car.  
  
"The sheer gall of that man! How dare he question us as if we're some kind of ... criminals!"  
  
He laughed, kindly patting her on the shoulder. "What was that all about, anyway?"  
  
His question forced Gwen to calm down to answer. She took deep breath and sighed. "The Milan school board has recently become sponsored by a company called Hammond Industries, headed by its creator, Gabriel Hammond. Have you ever heard of him?" John shook his head silently in response. She nodded, not surprised.  
  
"They're quite prevalent in the field of genetics. Some of the leading scientists in the field of mutation studies are on their payroll."  
  
"What would they want with a school board?"  
  
"They know about us, John, what we are. Hammond and his lackeys would like nothing better than to have every last mutant thrown into a science lab."  
  
"And Decato?" John took one last glimpse at the car trailing dust in the distance.  
  
"Vincenzo Decato would rather see us wiped off the face of the earth." Her tone was venomous.  
  
"Why don't you just get rid of him?" He suggested it as if it were the obvious solution.  
  
Gwen smirked, as if she didn't mind his idea. "We can't just run around killing people we don't agree with! We have to play by their rules. Everything is legalities and contracts with Hammond. All he needs is a legitimate reason to come in here and take us all away."  
  
"And that's Decato's job. To find you unfit to keep the kids?"  
  
"That's our suspicion."  
  
John watched her face, and noticed the obvious exhaustion overcoming her.  
  
"Seems like you've got a lot on your plate to deal with."  
  
She took another long breath, smiling half-heartedly. "You have no idea."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------  
  
To be continued... 


End file.
